


sift out all the dust

by helloearthlings



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Military, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Disabled Character, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Military, Military Backstory, Minor Character Death, Modern Era, Past Relationship(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-05 14:28:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12191694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helloearthlings/pseuds/helloearthlings
Summary: “What’s your story?” Merlin asked, his eyes a bit more gentle than the gazes of a whole group of strangers.Arthur hesitated, his mouth thick. “…I lost my leg.”Merlin’s look at him didn’t change; his eyes didn’t go soft and pitying. He didn’t ask invasive questions. Instead, he said “My fiancé died. Here. While I was overseas.”The bottom fell out of Arthur’s stomach. “Shit.”





	sift out all the dust

**Author's Note:**

> This fucking story has been begging to be written for a couple weeks now, and I've finally managed to get it out. I have no idea if it's good; it's one of those stories I have all of these complex ideas for and I don't actually know if they come across well. It's a little triggery, so please look at the tag list for warnings! If I didn't warn for something you think I should have, please let me know.
> 
> Enjoy the angst! Let me know what you think!

Arthur knew that he was late, but he hadn’t mentally prepared himself for everyone else’s eyes turning to him when he creaked open the door. Their eyes weren’t exactly judgmental, but Arthur did not like the attention. It made him feel different, separate, from the rest. He’d had enough of that these past few months.

“You must be Arthur,” a kindly-looking woman in her late sixties smiled up at him, her teeth yellow and her hair grey with age. It was easy to tell that she was in charge of the motley crew in front of her – mostly young, mostly male, and all looking as uncomfortable as Arthur felt. “I’m Alice. It’s so nice to meet you. There’s coffee on the table there. We saved a spot for you.”

She nodded to an empty chair in the circle, between an older, grizzled black man and a white woman who looked to be in her late twenties, dark hair and light eyes, ordinary enough except for the wheelchair she sat in.

Arthur cleared his throat; his voice was scratchy with disuse. “Uh. Thanks.”

He shuffled over to the coffee table, all too conscious of his walk, wondering if any of the others could tell. If any of them knew from experience.

He came back to the circle, coffee in a little plastic Styrofoam cup. He slowly lowered himself into his seat, taking a sip. It was shit coffee, but it would give him something to do with his hands.

He balanced the cup precariously on his left knee – on his only knee – as Alice asked “Now, Percival, you were telling us about your friend.”

“Yeah,” one of the men, tall, muscled, and burly, looked down at his hands. “Elyan. Good bloke. Solid, you know? Never took any shit. He pulled me out of the way of a bullet that would have hit my heart…”

Arthur didn’t know how he was going to listen to all of these stories; these tales of personal woe and terror. He had enough of them himself. But he especially didn’t want to hear about lost friends; it made his own problems seem petty, even though he knew they weren’t.

Every night, he dreamed he still had two legs. Every morning, he just had the one.

“Arthur?” He didn’t realize Alice was looking at him right away. Ashamedly, he met her eye, but only for an instant.

“Yes?”

“Maybe, since it’s your first time here, you’d like to tell us a bit about yourself and why you’re here,” Alice said gently. “If you don’t want to right away, we can always come back to you.”

Arthur almost said that she should, but that would be cowardly of him. His father thought it was cowardly to come to a therapy session in the first place; the least Arthur could do while he was here was speak.

“My deployment ended a few months ago,” Arthur said with a shrug as if it didn’t matter to him, that he had no stake in it. “My physical therapist thought this would be a good idea.”

Alice nodded, realizing Arthur wasn’t going to say much more. Instead, she turned to the other side of the circle and asked “Merlin? Guinevere? Did either of you feel like talking today?”

A curly-haired girl who looked to be a little older than Arthur, presumably Guinevere, shook her head, eyes on the linoleum floor and bright with tears.

Next to her, a dark-haired man with sharp features who must be Merlin said “No thanks.”

His tone was cool and collected, as if someone had asked him if he had wanted ketchup on his burger. His eyes were directed at the door. Arthur couldn’t help but feel a kinship with that particular emotion. He didn’t want to be here either.

Arthur waited patiently, hearing people’s stories but not really registering them, the full hour until he could leave. When Alice said that it was all the time they had for the day, Arthur’s chair scraped on the floor in his hurry to get out the door.

Unfortunately, he was not trusted to drive yet, and was stuck waiting for Morgana in the parking lot. His sister had been the only real show of support he’d had in all this time – his father didn’t _really_ count – and he was grateful that she could be his primary transportation. He didn’t like going on the Tube; there were too many people there. Too many people who could see.

The rest of the therapy group shuffled out after him, some getting into vehicles, some walking down the street either alone or separately. The therapy session was held in a community center that Arthur hadn’t known existed until his physical therapist gave him the address.

His leg started to itch.

Well. No, it didn’t.

* * *

 

Arthur begrudgingly kept going to therapy, once a week, Sunday afternoons. The next three weeks, he didn’t say anything. Everyone else in the circle did – Percival talked about losing his mate, Elyan. He had come along with the older black man, Tom, and Guinevere, who were Elyan’s father and sister. Family therapy.

There was Leon, who had lost a handful of friends. Gwaine, who had been shot twice. Mithian, was paralyzed from the waist down.

The only other person who didn’t talk was Merlin, though he seemed to actually pay attention to the others’ stories, unlike Arthur, who had an unfortunate habit of zoning out. Merlin, though, was always bright and attentive, frowning and smiling at the right times.

Arthur still felt a kind of kinship with him, despite their never speaking. This seemed to be a silent activity for them both, and Arthur started having a little contest with him in his head – whoever spoke first lost.

Just before his fourth therapy session, when he had not just been on time, but early, and the others were mingling, Merlin finally spoke to him as they both stirred creamer into their coffee.

“Alice thinks we should get a drink together,” Merlin said conversationally, as if they had had this exchange many times before, “that it would be easier to talk to someone one-on-one.”

“What do you think?” Arthur found himself asking, taking a sip of the crap coffee to keep himself from appearing too invested in the conversation.

Merlin shrugged, a small grimace marring his features. “I don’t think anything about this is easy. I’m willing to get a drink with you. You keep up your silence well, and I respect that.”

“You too,” Arthur almost smiled, wondering if he should tell Merlin about his little imaginary contest. He decided against it. “Tonight work?”

“Sure. You have a place in mind?” Merlin asked.

“Uh, Ruby House?” Arthur wondered aloud, his cheeks heating up as he said “It’s near my flat. I can’t really drive right now.”

He expected Merlin to prod into why, but the other man just blinked at him. He had blue eyes; Arthur hadn’t noticed before. “Yeah, sure thing. Seven sound good?”

“Sure.”

It was easier to get through therapy that day; sometimes, he and Merlin made eye contact when someone else was talking, and Arthur almost smiled a few more times.

* * *

 

“First round’s on me,” Merlin gestured to the corner table he had snagged before Arthur arrived at the Ruby House that night. He was early; Arthur had timed the walk from his apartment perfectly. Morgana was utterly shocked that Arthur was out in the world, interacting with another human being. But, as Arthur snidely told her, miracles happen every day.

“Let’s not talk about…” Arthur started hesitantly when Merlin came back to the table, sliding him a pint, and Merlin nodded fervently.

“Agreed,” Merlin winced. “So. What do you do, Arthur? For work?”

Arthur hated that question; heat rose to his cheeks. “Uh…right now, nothing. Still – recovering. My sister is on me about applying to jobs, but I haven’t yet. I have a degree in Communications that I guess I’ll be putting to use.”

Merlin smiled at him; it was bright but drooped in the corners and didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I get it. I have an English degree that I’m entirely not-using as I work at my mate Lancelot’s gym.”

“You don’t strike me as the gym-happy type,” Arthur couldn’t help but grin a little. Merlin was fit, and obviously in good shape with his recent military background, but he had too narrow of a frame to be a real weight-lifter. Not that Arthur was a real weight-lifter, especially not now.

Merlin shrugged, a self-deprecating smile on his face as if he’d gotten that response before. “It’s money. It’s consistent. I don’t wanna do it forever, but I won’t complain.”

“I used to complain about the stupidest shit,” Arthur smiled at the memory of himself before he had been deployed; an entitled brat, as Morgana called him. He knew Morgana missed the entitled brat, though, and looked for him whenever Arthur entered the room, but never found him. “Seems idiotic now.”

Merlin took a deep breath in, exhaling with a bitter grimace. “It’s hard to skirt around the subject, huh?”

“Yeah,” Arthur shook his head regretfully, taking a sip of his beer.

“What’s your story?” Merlin asked, his eyes a bit more gentle than the gazes of a whole group of strangers. “We’ve all got one, and it can usually be summed up pretty quick. My mate died, I got hurt, I have flashbacks – not to minimize it, but it’s always something like that.”

Arthur hesitated, his mouth thick. “…I lost my leg.”

Merlin’s look at him didn’t change; his eyes didn’t go soft and pitying. He didn’t ask invasive questions. Instead, he said “My fiancé died. Here. While I was overseas.”

The bottom fell out of Arthur’s stomach. “Shit.”

Merlin took a long drink from his pint and set it down with his lips tightened and staring hard at the countertop. “Yeah. Shit.”

“I feel like my problems are petty compared to that,” Arthur admitted, but Merlin shook his head.

“You had to relearn how to walk,” Merlin said. “That’s tough shit, too. We both had to….readjust. To new lives. With something missing.”

“A lot of people talk about losing mates, but not…” Arthur trailed off, unsure of how to articulate emotion. This was why he didn’t talk in therapy. “Do you want to talk about her?”

“Him,” Merlin corrected, his hand clenching even more tightly around his glass, drops of condensation evident on the edges of his fingers.

Arthur didn’t miss a beat. “Him. Do you want to talk about him?”

Merlin gave Arthur a surprised, but not unpleased look. “That’s one of the reasons I don’t talk in therapy, you know. Out of a dozen vets, someone’s bound to be a dick about it.”

“Then why’d you tell me?” Arthur asked, wondering if somehow Merlin had sensed Arthur’s ex-boyfriend or two whirling in the back of his mind.

Merlin shrugged. “Don’t know. You seemed like you might understand.”

Arthur felt like he should say something about how much he understood, but it had been so long since he’d said it out loud, acted on it – the military was a poor place to bring that to light. And since he’d been home, his father’s eyes sharp and assessing on his every move, it seemed like things hadn’t changed at all.

“You can talk about him with me,” Arthur said instead, “if you…don’t have anyone else.”

Merlin shrugged, a helpless look in his eye. “My mum’s been great. My mate – Lancelot – good listener. But it’s hard. They knew him. Will.”

A little shudder passed through Merlin’s shoulders, as if a breeze had blown past him, grey and overshadowing. “It’s just…been hard. We talked about what would happen if I died so many times…”

Arthur could almost taste the bitter irony of that, the soldier making it through the odds only to find that home was what brought the most pain. He swallowed thickly; his hand went to his leg.

It was a prosthetic now; he ran a finger against the cool metal of the fake knee. Late at night, alone in his bed, Arthur couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t scarred. But here, in this bar, in the world, he could act as if he were ordinary. There was a replacement. He could pretend he hadn’t lost anything.

Merlin couldn’t pretend.

Merlin didn’t seem to want to continue, his hands going slack as he shrugged again, as if there were nothing else to add. Both he and Arthur paused to take a drink.

“It was a land mine,” Arthur said, wanting to reciprocate this exchange in some way, give Merlin something of his to carry. “It killed six soldiers. I was just in range of the blast; not too close, but not too far either.”

Merlin didn’t reply, but his eyes were bright and attentive on Arthur’s. He seemed to know there was something else Arthur had to say.

Arthur cleared his throat. “My father wishes I’d died. He won’t say it, but I know he does. Better a dead son than a broken one. One who can never make something of himself. Who isn’t a real man anymore.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Merlin said automatically, affectionately, as if they’d known each other much longer than they had.

“I’m not,” Arthur shook his head, “and my sister makes damn sure I’m not. I’m living with her right now. She doesn’t trust me on my own. Well, that’s not unique to my new status as an amputee, she’s thought that since I was seven and fell out of a tree in primary school, but…”

Merlin laughed along with Arthur, quiet but real. Arthur had been right before, about the kinship. There was something between them, something that made Arthur feel like he could understand Merlin, despite the fact that Arthur had never lost someone so close to him. His mother didn’t count; he’d never known her. In turn, he felt like Merlin might understand Arthur’s relationship with his father, this desperate and messy attempt to please him and utterly falling short in every way.

“We should do this again,” Merlin said suddenly, reading Arthur’s mind. “Talk. This has been…a lot more helpful than any of Alice’s little group bonding exercises.”

Arthur smiled, agreeing. “Yeah. We should. I…I don’t really have anyone else to talk to about this. My father’s out of the question. My sister thinks anything I do consists of _whining and bitching and moaning_ and that I should be grateful just to be alive. Which I am, I just – sheer joy at being alive isn’t really something I experience in the day-to-day. Shit’s tough. My entire body feels like its rewiring.”

“Lancelot and my mum have this version of me in their heads,” Merlin’s eyes were a million miles away, “where I’m this perfectly docile little picture of mourning. And fuck it, it’s just not me. I’m really fucking angry sometimes. And I don’t know what I’m doing the rest of the time.”

“I never know what I’m doing,” Arthur said with a frustrated sigh, but it made Merlin crack a grin.

“Cheers to that.”

* * *

 

The next week at their group therapy session, Alice nodded approvingly when she saw Merlin and Arthur talk over the coffee table, trying to make the slop more edible with boatloads of creamer. Arthur noticed that Merlin didn’t look great; he had dark circles under his eyes, his hands tremored a bit when he tore open the sugar packets. Arthur tried to think if he’d seen him that way before, at the other sessions.

It kept him preoccupied enough that when Alice asked “Arthur, do you have anything to share?” Arthur felt like he couldn’t keep quiet.

“My leg got blown off in a land mine explosion,” Arthur said matter-of-factly, even as the room around him seemed shocked at his blasé tone, their eyes wide on his. Merlin wasn’t; Arthur had been watching. His eyes flashed with surprise, presumably that Arthur had spoken in the group setting, but then were affectionate and supportive as he nodded at Arthur, seeming to give him the go-ahead to continue.

“I had physical therapy today and it was shit,” Arthur kept steam-rolling through, knowing that if he used flowery language to cover the mess up, it just wouldn’t be genuine, wouldn’t be real. “I think my body’s on fire. I had to take the train here today because my sister has a date and I keep thinking everyone is staring at me, the way I look, how I walk. And the whole time, I thought about how my sister is going to get married someday, or have a family, and I won’t be able to stay with her anymore, and then I’ll really be on my own because no one is ever going to love me.”

Eleven pairs of eyes were on his own, presumably a little terrified that Arthur’s silence had been broken in such a bizarre and angry way.

“Someone else talk,” Arthur muttered under his breath, wilting under the attention. He sipped his horrible coffee.

“My fiancé died,” Merlin’s voice suddenly filled the room. Arthur stared at him; his voice wasn’t nearly as blasé as Arthur’s, but it wasn’t quite the emotional outpouring it had been when he’d told Arthur. It was said with a bittersweet twist of his mouth, his eyes on the ground, “in a car accident while I was deployed. And everyone talks about how there’s a readjustment period when you come home but mine is pretty fucking extreme. And all I can think of is how I blew it. I blew my entire life. I’ve always thought – you know, everyone gets one person. Everyone gets one person to love like that, and I fucking screwed myself. I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there, and now it’s over – h- _he’s_ gone and there’s nothing I can do about and no way to recover from it.”

Arthur stared at him; the rest of the room was as well, but it was Arthur that Merlin looked back at, his eyes heavy and tear-sprinkled.

“Someone else talk,” Merlin echoed Arthur’s sentiment, shooting him a little grin.

Arthur was walking toward the train station after the session ended when Merlin caught up with him, matching his pace. Arthur noticed that Merlin’s legs were just a little longer.

“Your sister can’t pick you up?” Merlin asked, and Arthur nodded. “Would…would it be alright if I took the train home with you?”

Arthur tried to say something like _I’m fine_ or _you’re such a girl_ or _I don’t need anyone’s help_ but instead he said “Alright.”

* * *

 

Merlin ended up coming all the way back to Morgana’s apartment; she wasn’t home, she wouldn’t care. Arthur ended up getting out a bottle of scotch and he and Merlin sat around the island in the kitchen, drinking and laughing.

“Alice’s face,” Merlin giggled into his glass, “both of us talking at once. God, it was like the Second Coming of Christ to her.”

“Finally, _success_ ,” Arthur pumped his fist in the air in a very bad mimicry of Alice’s squeaky little voice. “The surly bastards have spilled their darkest tragedies. I have done my duty.”

Merlin’s laugh was booming, so loud it nearly took Arthur by surprise. “You’re quite funny when you’re not wallowing in the pits of despair.”

“Could say the same for you,” Arthur smiled, their eyes meeting, a kind of camaraderie passing between them.

Merlin opened his mouth to say something, but the apartment door swung open, making a creaking noise that echoed through the flat. Arthur craned his neck around the kitchen to see Morgana flounce into the room, throwing her coat down on the sofa. Oh, well. It was her house.

“Arthur?” Morgana squinted in the direction of the kitchen. “And…Oh God…is that another _human being_ that I see? Did Arthur – dare I say it – make a _friend_?”

Arthur glared at her, more embarrassed than angry. Merlin didn’t have to know that Arthur had spent all twenty-nine years of his life with his sister as his only source of friendship and emotional bonding. 

“I’m Merlin,” Merlin, damn him, just laughed as he held out a hand to shake Morgana’s. “Charmed.”

“I’m Morgana, Arthur’s sister,” Morgana said, grinning. “How’d you two meet?”

She regarded Arthur a little too suspiciously, as if Merlin were Arthur’s crack dealer or something equally ridiculous.

“Group therapy,” Arthur said, just to spite her as her eyes widened in delighted surprise. “Guess I’m not so helpless after all, huh?”

“Miracles happen every day,” Morgana said with a self-righteous eyebrow raise.

“Arthur said you were on a date?” Merlin interrupted their sibling rivalry very politely. “How was that?”

“Her name is Elena, she’s very cute but a little too bubbly for my tastes,” Morgana said, sighing dramatically as she fell into one of the kitchen’s barstools. Merlin met Arthur’s eye with a little smile; presumably, he thought Arthur’s understanding about Will came from his lesbian sister. Again, Arthur thought he should correct him, but Morgana was taking up too much attention right now for that to be possible. “We might try a second date. But back to you, Merlin – so you’re a soldier? It’s a group just for vets, right?”

“Yeah,” Merlin said, and Arthur could sense the tension in his voice, the way his fingers curled around his glass defensively. “Yeah, I was.”

“Home for good now?”

“Home for good,” Merlin echoed, voice thick.

Morgana nodded approvingly. “Arthur’s been back for six months – you know, since his surgery. Did you come back for any particular –”

“Thank you,” Arthur interrupted loudly, “for the third degree, Morgana. You know, in therapy, we have a policy that no one has to share any more than they want to. Abide by the rules, will you?”

Morgana retreated, a little guilt in her features. “Sorry, Merlin. It’s just that Arthur’s never brought a _friend_ home before.”

“Dear God,” Arthur nearly threw up his hands in mock-exhaustion. “You should’ve brought Elena back here so I could pester her incessantly about her private life and talk about how none of your girlfriends last more than a week.”

Arthur realized that he’d just compared his and Merlin’s almost-sort-of-friendship to Morgana and her potential girlfriend about a second too late. Merlin didn’t seem to notice, too busy shooting Arthur a grateful look for intervening so that he wouldn’t have to share any painful information. Morgana, on the other hand, raised an all-knowing eyebrow.

“Well, I’ll leave you two to your army talk,” Morgana waved a hand on her way out of the kitchen, winking at Arthur as she did so. Arthur wished the floor would swallow him up.

“Thanks,” Merlin said as Morgana disappeared behind her bedroom door, “for making sure I didn’t have to say anything.”

Arthur shrugged, a little relieved that Merlin hadn’t noticed Morgana’s indecent insinuations. “She’s too nosy for her own good.”

“About what you said earlier,” Merlin began awkwardly, eyes not meeting Arthur’s. Anxiety tightened in Arthur’s chest, “even if Morgana and this Elena do end up getting married and having kids, you’re not going to get left in the dust. You’ll have people to look out for you. And you’re not – not unlovable, Arthur.”

Merlin’s voice tightened and he bit his lip. Arthur, lost for words, forcefully cleared his throat once or twice.

“Neither are you,” he finally managed, remembering Merlin voicing his own despair.

Merlin shook his head. “That’s not my problem,” he said a little regretfully. “I don’t think that _I_ could ever love anyone again.”

“Plenty of people remarry,” Arthur said, not knowing quite how to comfort him, this specific sense of grief Merlin felt, “after losing someone.”

“I guess they do,” Merlin said quietly, then seemed to shake something off of himself, rolling his shoulders back. “God, we’re depressing. This was much more fun when we were poking fun at Alice.”

“I’ve had to recreate my version of _fun_ recently,” Arthur voiced with a little smile. “Anytime I’m not thinking about my leg is fun.”

“Let’s do something fun, then,” Merlin said suddenly. “After I get off work sometime this week. Or next weekend. Let’s…go to the zoo.”

“The zoo?” Arthur couldn’t help but giggle at the ridiculousness of the premise, the childish wonder that it brought about. His heart felt lighter just thinking about it.

“I love the zoo,” Merlin argued, not too passionately. “They have cool animals there.”

“Yeah, that’s what zoos are,” Arthur teased. “Cool animals.”

“Shut up,” Merlin smiled over at him, almost blinding in its intensity. “I’m serious. Zoos are fun and stress-free environments, I – shit. I forgot. Your leg. Would it be too much to –“

“My leg doesn’t have much of a say, since it’s not around anymore,” Arthur interrupted, the idea of something so easy and carefree enough to assuage his worries. “No, it wouldn’t hurt too much. And I’ve never been to the zoo before.”

“Never?” Merlin’s eyes widened. “That settles it, then. Saturday? Does Saturday work?”

“I don’t have any other plans,” Arthur shrugged as if it were some kind of contest, as if even if he were some extraordinarily busy person that he wouldn’t clear his schedule for something like this.

* * *

 

“He’s cute,” Morgana mentioned over dinner that night, after Merlin had left with promises to see Arthur on Saturday.

“Don’t start,” Arthur said a little shortly and Morgana put up her hands in mock-defense.

“I’m just saying,” Morgana rolled her eyes at him. “I’m not promoting you turning the first friend you’ve made on your own in years into your boyfriend, but I’m not against it either. And he’s a soldier, too, so he might understand your…”

She waved a hand in his general direction. Arthur glared.

“Morgana, his fiancé died while he was deployed,” Arthur decided that it was the only way to shut her up. Morgana dropped her fork; it clattered against the metal plate.

“Shit,” Morgana whispered.

“Really puts my leg in perspective,” Arthur said quietly and for once, Morgana was struck silent and simply nodded in agreement.

* * *

 

They were at the penguin exhibit when Arthur winced for the first time; Merlin, much to Arthur’s chagrin and embarrassment, noticed immediately, eyes narrowing concernedly.

“Do you need to sit down?”

“Merlin, I’m fine,” Arthur said immediately, but after taking another step, he decided to swallow his pride. “Sitting down would be alright.”

Merlin shot him a tetchy look, pulling him by the elbow out of the penguin habitat and into the sunny afternoon sky, free of clouds for a change. It didn’t take long to locate a bench next to the lemur exhibit, and Merlin carefully watched Arthur as he sat down.

“Honestly, I’m okay,” Arthur reassured him. “I just haven’t been standing for this long more than a couple times.”

“You should’ve said something,” Merlin sat next to him, a distressed look in his eye.

“It’s good for me,” Arthur argued, unfortunately realizing he was sounding like his sister. “Out in the fresh air and all. Besides, I need to start endurance training on this thing.”

He tapped the prosthetic lightly with one of his hands. Merlin kept frowning. “You’re not in the military anymore, you know. Endurance training isn’t something you have to do.”

“It’s something I _need_ to do,” Arthur corrected, jaw clenched. His paranoia had grown since coming home; he sometimes wondered if his father was right, if he wasn’t capable of taking care of himself anymore, let alone anyone else. “I…I worry. About if there’s an accident. Or – or some emergency. The apartment’s burning now and I can’t get out. That kind of thing.”

“And not saying _Merlin, can we sit down for a minute_ as we walk around the bloody zoo of all places is somehow preparing you for that?” Merlin squinted at him, but Arthur knew he understood. He could see it in his eyes, the way they regarded him so carefully, gently.

“Morgana isn’t always going to be around to make sure I don’t trip over myself,” Arthur spoke mainly to himself, reminding himself that he couldn’t depend on anyone for long. “I have to learn how to take care of myself.”

“Are you really preparing yourself for a life on your own?” Merlin blinked sadly over at him, as if it were some unspeakable crime. “Arthur, you’re –”

Arthur didn’t want to hear it. “Aren’t you doing the exact same?”

Merlin gazed him, biting his lip hard, a glint in his eye as if he were holding himself back from saying something rude. He relented, face falling into a deep, tired sigh. “Point taken. Fuck. This was to get our mind off of our problems. I’m gonna go get us snow cones, okay?”

“Merlin –”

He was already up, not meeting Arthur’s eye, walking purposefully toward the direction of the concession stand. Arthur watched him walk a little wistfully; he missed stomping about when he got angry. He had to find other ways to be angry now.

Merlin came back with two snow cones, both blue raspberry flavored, apologetic that he hadn’t asked Arthur what kind he wanted.

Arthur just laughed. Really laughed, in a way he didn’t think himself capable of.

* * *

 

“I wish I could still go the gym,” Arthur said with a dramatic sigh as Merlin recounted a story from work that day in which his friend Lancelot and he stopped a man twice their size from destroying their weight room. Merlin gave him a mock-judgmental look.

“Trade you,” Merlin rolled his eyes and Arthur blinked at him. “Well, not really. But I’m so fucking sick of the gym. I need to…go back to school.”

There was a bright look in his eye; Arthur smiled at him over their corner table at the pub. They had been coming here the past few nights, after Merlin got off work. Merlin didn’t like being alone, Arthur learned, and Arthur was all too desperate to connect with someone.

“Really?” Arthur asked, and Merlin nodded, a sudden determined look in his eye.

“I think I want to be a teacher,” Merlin said as if the idea were just coming to him. “I think I’d like that. An English teacher at a secondary school.”

“I think you’d be good at that,” Arthur told him, and Merlin sagged in relief a little, as if he didn’t think himself capable of it.

“I need to move on with my life,” Merlin said forcefully, and Arthur blinked, a little dissuaded by the statement. “I need to start doing something meaningful again or I’m just going to get eaten alive.”

Arthur had vague ideas of saying something soppy about how much Merlin’s companionship meant to him, but knew he’d never had the courage to. Merlin didn’t wait for him to respond, however, and kept talking.

“Will and I talked about what would happen if I died,” Merlin said, tears forming in the corner of his eyes. Arthur half wanted to reach out, tell him it was okay, but again held himself back. “Our joke was always that he could get remarried, just so long as the guy was less attractive than me. A pretty low bar.”

“ _Not_ a low bar,” Arthur said before he could stop himself. Merlin shook his head at him, smiling what looked like in spite of himself.

“He definitely wouldn’t have been allowed to marry you,” Merlin said as if he were clever, raising his pint to take a swig. “Not that you would’ve been interested.”

“Come on,” Arthur said, staring down at his hands. “I’m not…what I mean is that…”

Merlin’s shoulders dropped as he shook his head shamefacedly at Arthur. “You’re serious? Honestly, Arthur. As a gay man, take my word for it – you’re attractive.”

That seemed to be an opening if there was one. “As a fellow gay man,” Arthur said a little anticlimactically as Merlin stared at him, unnerved, “I’m saying that I’m not more attractive than _you_.”

Arthur was worried Merlin would feel lied to, deceived; instead, Merlin just started to laugh, a little incredulously. “Are we really having this argument? And….and you could’ve said something, Arthur. Before. Obviously I would’ve understood.”

Arthur shrugged. “I’m just used to not saying it. I dated a little in college, but the military…and my father…my father already hates that I’m broken. I don’t want to give him another excuse. And it’s not like anyone will ever…”

“Stop talking like that,” Merlin said, more quietly, tension in his hands. “I hate your father, you know. You’re not broken at all.”

“I’m a little bit,” Arthur said, not leaving room for Merlin to argue as he took a long drink.

* * *

 

Merlin was going to go back to school for his teaching license; his fervor for it itched at Arthur until he finally made a decision.

“I’m going to apply for a job,” he told Morgana a few weeks later over breakfast. She blinked at him, setting down her spoon.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea – I mean, with your physical therapy –”

“I’ll work part time,” Arthur said, “or I’ll ask for certain hours off. Low-stress environment. Lots of sitting. I’ll work around it. I just need to do something, Morgana. Something that feels worthwhile. And so that I can provide for myself.”

“You never liked anyone taking care of you,” Morgana regarded him a little sadly, but he knew that she would never try to stop him.

“I’d rather it be you than Father,” Arthur argued a little petulantly and Morgana snored.

“That’s a given. If you’re waiting for my permission, you’ve got it, though I’m sure you would do it anyway.”

“Thanks, Morgana,” Arthur patted his sister’s hand clumsily, unused to showing affection to her. “I knew you’d get over it.”

Morgana glared at him before saying “Oh, how about you get over _yourself_!”

It made no sense, but it led them both into a fit of laughter.

* * *

 

Arthur had a new routine now. Monday through Thursday, he worked nine to five at a desk job for a tech company; it was a bit dull, but it kept is brain moving. He had physical therapy for an hour every other day before work, and then a longer session on Fridays. On Sundays, he kept going to group therapy with Alice, sharing tiny pieces of himself throughout the weeks.

And most days, he and Merlin still found time to talk.

Merlin was busier than he was, with a full-time job and classes besides; most of the time, Arthur found himself at Merlin’s flat, hanging out and watching television while Merlin absentmindedly did homework. It was just a teaching certificate program; he would finish it within the next year or so.

Arthur wished he had the balls to go back to school; it was all he could do behind the fake walls of his cubicle to not break down after someone stared at him for a second too long, trying to figure out what was wrong with him, the rumor being passed around.

He didn’t often articulate the specific kind of shame that brought about – other than with Merlin. Merlin always seemed to know what to say.

“I just feel like a circus freak,” Arthur told him, quickly eating the pizza that Merlin had ordered so that he didn’t have to add anything else.

“Sounds like that’s a _them_ problem and not a _you_ problem,” Merlin said sagely, taking a bite of his own pizza. “You won’t be at this job forever, Arthur. It’s a stepping stone, getting you acclimated to the world again. You’ll find a better one.”

Arthur shrugged, not voicing his worry that he never would, that he’d never be good enough to rise above mediocrity.

As if the universe aligned his thoughts with the world around him, Arthur pulled out his phone to distract himself from these harsh realities and saw that he’d received an email.

“My father wants to have dinner with me,” Arthur remarked lightly, though his heart had started pumping faster the moment he saw his father’s name. “And Morgana, of course.”

Merlin stared at him, eyes guarded. “He texted you?”

“His personal assistant emailed me,” Arthur corrected acidly, though his malice was not aimed at Merlin. “Wants to see how I’m doing as if he doesn’t get updates from my physical therapist every week.”

“Can he do that?” Merlin squinted at him. “I mean, you’re an adult.”

Arthur shrugged. “He’s rich, he can do whatever he wants.”

“Do you…want to see him?”

“No,” Arthur sighed. “But I never want to see my father. At least if Morgana and I go together we can stave him off for a while. Listen to this: _He would be pleased to see you Saturday after next, half seven at the home estate._ What a fucking…”

Arthur trailed off, too annoyed to continue.

“I’ll see you on Sunday, for therapy, right?” Merlin said encouragingly after a moment, but Arthur could tell he wanted to say something mean about his father. He had that look about him that Arthur had every time his father was brought up, but didn’t feel like he could bad-mouth a man he’d never met. “You can talk to me about it. Or you could even tell the group about it if it goes that badly.”

Arthur’s stomach churned at the thought of vocalizing him and his father’s terrible relationship to a group, or even an individual, he didn’t trust. Morgana knew because that relationship was mirrored in her and Uther; Merlin knew because Merlin…

“Yeah, I’ll definitely wanna bitch about it,” Arthur forced himself to laugh and quickly changed the subject.

* * *

 

The silence at Uther’s house was as ominous as Arthur remembered from their last stunted, awkward dinner almost a year ago. That dinner, however, had been Arthur’s first time wearing his prosthetic outside of his physical therapist’s office, and had been all kinds of horrible and anxiety-inducing besides.

This dinner was not much better.

“Morgana, how was your evening with Mr. Carleon? His mother and I did hope you two hit it off,” Uther’s said, mild politeness masking his insidious ways. He never perfectly well that Morgana didn’t date men, and yet kept sending gentlemen suitors in her direction every time one halfway decent came about.

Arthur remembered how his father used to send girls toward him in the same way, and how furious that had made him.

Uther didn’t do that anymore.

“He’s twice my age,” Morgana said shortly in lieu of a real answer, green eyes steadfast on her plate as she viciously stabbed her pork. “Lovely meal, Father. Do thank the cooks for me.”

 Uther ignored her, and instead turned his icy stare on Arthur. “And how is your physical therapy proceeding? Gaius really can work wonders. He helped me after my shoulder injury, do you remember?”

Arthur resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Every time he and his father had talked since he returned home, Uther reminded him that Gaius had helped him with his shoulder. It was his one topic of safe conversation, one last thing that he and his son had in common.

“Gaius is fine,” Arthur said, taking a large swallow of his water. Uther had offered wine, but Arthur refused, not trusting himself to be tipsy in Uther’s presence. “Very helpful.”

“Any good news?”

“I’ll start growing the leg back any day now,” Arthur snapped angrily, and Uther’s icy glare turned to fire, his face growing red.

“Don’t take that ungrateful tone,” Uther said in a slow, measured voice. “I paid for the best treatment money could buy –”

“Thank you, Father,” Arthur interrupted what was sure to be an angry tirade. Morgana, tightlipped and shaking, shot Arthur a look of solidarity, “for your contributions.”

“I do wish you’d move home,” Uther sighed as if this was a new thought of his. “Morgana can’t take care of you forever –”

“Why can’t I?” Morgana asked, eyes flashing. It seemed that Uther wasn’t going to get to finish any of his sentences tonight. “Arthur can stay with me ‘til we’re eighty for all I care. And no offense, Father, but I’m going to live longer than you.”

Perhaps it was the tone she took, or the audacity she showed, or even the fact that she had reminded him that he would die someday, but Uther suddenly rose to his feet, voice thundering. “I will not be spoken to that way in my own home. Your brother is an invalid, Morgana, and there’s nothing we can do about it. At least here, he won’t be an embarrassment –”

“Serving your country is an embarrassment now, is it?” Morgana stood as well, her red lips curled in a snarl. “Injury in the line of duty is somehow shameful?”

Uther’s face contorted; they all knew that was exactly what he thought. That Arthur had brought shame to the family by serving his country but not dying for it, coming back but coming back in pieces.

Arthur wondered why he was still sitting down.

Before Uther could spit back a fiery retort, Arthur rose. He didn’t join his family’s ranks of shouting; instead, he turned for the door without a word.

He heard his father yell his name, but didn’t turn around. He had made it down the front steps into the chilly autumn evening when Morgana caught up with him, grabbing his arm.

“He’s a monster,” Morgana whispered furiously, linking their arms together and marching them in the direction of her car. “A fucking monster. God…”

“I’ll call to apologize later,” Arthur said in a monotone voice, “so he doesn’t decide to cut either of us off financially. I can’t afford to pay for my treatment. And neither can you, so don’t start.”

“You’re a veteran –”

“Can you drop me off at Merlin’s?” Arthur asked, not realizing the words were out of his mouth until he opened the passenger door to Morgana’s car. Morgana looked across the space between them, a curious look on her face.

“Why?”

“Because I feel like shit,” Arthur said, opening his door forcefully, “and I would feel better if I saw him. Why? Do I need a better reason?”

He fell into his seat a little dramatically, but he felt like he had a right to it after dealing with Uther. Morgana sat as well, turning her key into the ignition. She seemed to consider her words carefully before she spoke.

“You two have known each other for – what? Six months?”

“Something like that,” Arthur muttered, buckling his seatbelt, not knowing where this was going.

“You seem attached to him,” Morgana said softly. It was a statement, not a question; Arthur didn’t reply. “Arthur, his fiancé died. That’s not something you get over in six months.”

“A year,” Arthur corrected, though it didn’t really matter the time. Morgana’s warning rang true either way. Especially since he knew Merlin thought that Will was the only love for him. “And it’s not like that. I just…like being with him. I think I help him. And he helps me.”

“Okay,” Morgana said, her hand reaching in Arthur’s general direction, patting him awkwardly on the shoulder; they had never been much for physical intimacy, but Arthur appreciated the gesture nonetheless. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt, Arthur.”

“I can’t imagine being much more hurt than this,” Arthur jutted his chin at their father’s house, disappearing into the dark behind them as they pulled away. Morgana bit her lip, but didn’t reply.

* * *

 

“Arthur?” Merlin pulled open his door with a surprised but altogether pleasant and happy look on his face when Arthur finally made it to his flat. Clearly, Arthur looked as shitty as he felt, for Merlin asked “What happened? What’s the matter?”

“I hate my father,” Arthur shrugged in lieu of greeting. “That’s okay, though, because he hates me, too.”

“It’s alright,” Merlin stepped aside to let Arthur into the flat. He gestured toward the couch, and Arhtur tentatively sat down.

“I didn’t want to have to talk to Morgana,” Arthur felt like he had to make an excuse to come here. “She would’ve wanted to rehash the thing for hours. But I definitely didn’t want to be alone.”

Well, that was true enough, he supposed. Merlin’s hand brushed against Arthur’s shoulder, just for a second, before he came around the other side of the couch to sit, too, smiling hesitantly at Arthur.

“You don’t have to make up an excuse to be here,” Merlin said with a little chuckle, and Arthur turned red and gazed at Merlin’s carpet instead of his face. “I always think about calling you when I have a bad day.”

“Not your mum? Or Lancelot?” Arthur asked, genuinely wanting to know the answer. “I mean…I’m all but a stranger, I’ve only known you –”

“You’re not a stranger,” Merlin interrupted gently, “and you’re easier to talk to – and I think I might be easier for you to talk to than your sister, which is why you’re here. So do you wanna talk? Or should I put something stupid on television that we can make fun of?”

Arthur gestured at the television, and Merlin smiled before turning it on to some inane soap opera. Merlin made some joke about how he was pretty sure there were evil triplets in this one, and Arthur settled back and tried to think about anything but his father.

It didn’t take long to chase Uther away; Arthur noticed a new addition to Merlin’s rather minimal decorations. On the cabinet next to the television, there was a small framed picture. Merlin was on the right, his face beaming and bright, his face free of the stubble that now seemed to be a permanent adornment.

To his left was another man, a few inches shorter with sandy brown hair cut short around his ears but spiked at the top. His face was narrow like Merlin’s, but he was less pale. Merlin had an arm around one of his shoulders like he was trying to pull the other man closer to him.

They both looked happy.

“Our last holiday,” Merlin said softly. Arthur almost jumped; he didn’t notice that Merlin had caught him staring. “Just up to Ireland when I was on leave. It’s when we decided to get married. Neither of us did the asking, we just decided we wanted to. When I got back. Last time I saw him was at the airport…he told me he’d have the whole thing planned by the time I got back.”

Arthur stayed very still as Merlin said wistfully, “I hate planning things. He was very considerate like that.”

Something stopped Arthur from speaking; probably because Merlin wasn’t finished. There weren’t tears in his eyes, like the other times he talked about Will; he just looked a little further away.

“I finally put the picture up yesterday. I feel like I can remember the good parts without getting dragged back down. I don’t know if I’ll ever quite be at peace with it, but…I can at least coexist with it.” He paused, then stared at the ground with a laugh. “Shit, we’re supposed to be talking about you.”

“Nothing that positive to say about my night,” Arthur tried his hardest not to remember the disappointment and anger in his father’s eyes. “It was just explicitly told to me that I was an embarrassment to society and heavily implied that it would’ve been better for everyone if I had died instead of come back to suck up all of my father’s resources and reputation.”

“Fuck him,” Merlin said softly, but not without feeling punched behind him. His eyes were heavy on Arthur’s, wandering over him as if he were afraid Arthur would break. Arthur was a little afraid that he would break today. “I…I don’t know if anyone’s told you this yet, Arthur. But I’m so fucking glad you didn’t die.”

Arthur didn’t even know how to respond for that; a warm feeling spread throughout his chest. He settled for saying, “Uh, me too. I’m…I’m glad you’re still around. That you’re here. Things have gotten so much better since…”

He trailed off uncertainly; he and Merlin met eyes. Merlin’s were somehow sad and happy at the same time, but very soft; if he reached out, Arthur had no doubt his hands would be just as light and gentle. Part of Arthur wanted to reach for him and test this hypothesis. Instead, he just kept staring.

Seconds, maybe minutes later, and neither of them had looked away. This had gone on too long to be brushed off; Arthur knew that Merlin could feel that, too. But if they broke eye contact, if one of them spoke, then the tension hanging in this moment would slip away, and they’d have name what this feeling was.

Arthur thought he might know, but didn’t want to say it out loud.

Merlin broke the string hanging between them as he spoke, but didn’t look away. “You…you know…you know I can’t do this,” he said, and the warm feeling that had consumed Arthur started to splinter away. He broke their eye contact just as Merlin said, “…not right now. Not yet. It’s too soon.”

Arthur met his eyes again, surprise and something like happiness flooding back into him as he stared at Merlin, lips parting. “I – I – you mean you _could_?”

Merlin’s lower lip trembled and his fingers dug into his hand in anxiety. “I thought I’d never – but _you_ , Arthur. I think. I think I could. With you. If you’ll give me time. If you’ll wait for me. God, Arthur, I know it’s too much to ask of you, it’s too much baggage –”

“I,” Arthur said slowly, words forming in his mind as they exit his mouth, “am the _king_ of baggage, Merlin.”

Merlin laughed then stopped himself short, his eyes a little watery. Arthur wished he could reach over and wipe them away, but he knew that wasn’t what Merlin needed right now.

“Thank you,” Merlin said, his voice smaller than Arthur had heard it before. “I just – it needs to feel right with you. Because it’s you. And it wouldn’t feel right just yet.”

“I have time,” Arthur promised, heart beating heavily, not quite believing that this was really happening.

They sat in silence for a moment, and laughed awkwardly when they made eye contact, not quite sure what to do with each other now.

“I’m gonna need a ride home,” Arthur finally said, and Merlin grinned at him.

“I can do that.”

They rode back to Morgana’s mainly in silence, punctuating only by more eye contact, Merlin’s curious and amazed on Arthur’s, and Arthur knew his own eyes reflected the same.

“I’ll see you…later,” Arthur said when they finally reached Morgana’s. Merlin looked at him for half a second before hesitantly reaching an arm out.

It was a one-armed hug on both of their parts; not close, not intimate, but long. Arthur thought it was the first time someone had really hugged him in years, and Merlin didn’t seem to want to let go. Arthur knew he didn’t.

Merlin waved as he pulled away, and Arthur knew he had some explaining to do to Morgana when he made it upstairs.

* * *

 

Arthur wasn’t quite sure what to do next.

He wanted to talk to Merlin; text him, call him, hang out with him like they always did. But it would be different now, and Arthur knew it. He wanted to give Merlin the time, the space, that he needed. So that meant that he couldn’t bother him.

“ _Why_ aren’t you going to therapy today?” Morgana regarded him judgmentally that afternoon as she jangled her keys in Arthur’s face and he told her he couldn’t go right now.

“Merlin will be there,” Arthur said steadfastly. “And I’m giving him time.”

He had given Morgana a run-down the previous night; she deserved that much, after putting up with Arthur for so long. She had regarded him a little sadly, but told him she liked Merlin, that she was hopeful for him.

She had that sad look again now; it didn’t suit her. “Arthur, you spend all of your time with him. You’re hardly going to be able to stop now, especially since you know that he likes you like that, too.”

“Are we in the fourth grade?” Arthur sniped at her and Morgana shrugged.

“You act like it sometimes,” she said in a sing-song voice, but didn’t push Arthur beyond that.

Arthur’s week at work was somehow even more tedious than usual; his physical therapy exercises seemed more painful. Gaius asked him if he was stressed about something four different times that week.

Arthur was stressed; not over this odd, impending relationship of his, but the fact that the other half off this odd, impending relationship was not there to make his day brighter.

Still, Arthur was determined to show Merlin that he could do this, give him everything he needed, prove that if Merlin wanted to be with him, Arthur would do everything right.

Arthur did so few things right, but he desperately wanted this to be one of them. The most important one.

He was still holding out on Friday night, when he and Merlin usually got drinks together at the pub near Arthur’s flat; he had spent all night convincing himself not to text Merlin to ask if he still wanted to see him when his phone buzzed with a call, Merlin’s name prominent on the screen.

Arthur made himself wait for three rings before he picked up. “Merlin?” He sounded too hopeful, too overeager.

“We’re going to go mini-golfing tomorrow,” Merlin said, voice crackling over the line, but the determination in his voice was firm. “I’ve found a great place for it – handicap accessible, lots of benches where we can take breaks, that kind of thing. There’s an ice cream parlor right next door for afterwards.”

“Merlin –” Affection swelled in Arthur’s chest, but it was dampened down by a fear that Merlin was only doing this to please him.

“I really fucking miss you, Arthur,” Merlin interrupted. “Obviously, it would be hard to hang out as friends at this point, but not seeing you at all is worse. And I still need time, we’ll have to go slowly, bit by bit, but we need to do fun things. Light things, carefree things. This can’t be about problems all of the time, we have to forget those every once in a while. And go on dates. And get ice cream. You know?”

His nervous rambling was perhaps one of the most endearing things Arthur had ever come across, and without a thought, he said “I used to be great at mini golf.”

“I promise, you’ll still be better than me,” Merlin laughed and Arthur breathed a sigh of relief.

* * *

 

A month later, and Arthur hadn’t kissed Merlin yet but it somehow felt like they had more times than he could count. He felt closer to Merlin than anyone else he’d been with, in any context, in his past life; maybe it was their shared baggage. Maybe it was how they understood each other.

Maybe it was because Arthur had never loved anyone before, but he couldn’t say that.

He wondered, not for the first time, as he filled his styrafoam cup with terrible coffee one Sunday afternoon, the room in the community center colder than usual with the winter chill in the air, if the rest of the therapy group knew that the two of them were together. Not quite together. A little together. Mostly together.

No one looked at them differently; no one but Alice, who had a knowing twinkle in her eye every time they chose spots in the circle next to one another. Arthur vaguely entertained the idea that this was all a part of her master plan, then realized it didn’t matter either way, and that he owed her several years’ supply of answers to her questions and sympathetic nods for bringing Merlin into his life.

“Hey,” Merlin dropped into the seat next to him, his own coffee cup in hand. Alice, from her spot in the circle, gave them a wink as the rest of the circle slowly started to fill in. “I…I was wondering something.”

“Yeah?” Arthur asked, a little absentmindedly, busy thinking about Alice’s probable magical skills.

That thought was brought to a halt when Merlin said “I was wondering if I could spend the night at yours sometime.”

Arthur turned, blinking at him a few times to make sure he heard right. Merlin, clearly a little nervous, gave a hapless shrug. “I would ask you to stay at mine, but yours is where all of your stuff for your leg is, and I don’t want to interfere with that. And – and I don’t mean we should start sleeping together, I’m not sure if I can do that quite yet, but I want to spend the night with you.”

Arthur’s heart beat faster, his adrenaline part affection and part fear. “I – I – you might have to give _me_ some time on that one. You’ve never….seen me without a prosthetic. Hell, you’ve barely seen the prosthetic itself, I –”

“Hey, it’s alright,” Merlin chanced a look at the rest of the room, but they were socializing with each other and not focused on them; his hand found Arthur’s and held tightly. “I figured. I just wanted you to know…that I want to.”

“We – we haven’t even kissed yet,” Arthur stammered out, and Merlin blushed a little as he regarded the rest of the room again.

“Afterwards?” Merlin squeezed his hand as Alice called the room to attention.

Once the hour was up, Merlin’s hand found Arthur’s in the hallway, but they were in the parking lot in the wintry sunlight when they turned to each other all at once and pressed together.

“This weekend?” Arthur said breathlessly when they broke apart. “I think I could do it this weekend.”

“Take all the time you need,” Merlin leaned in to kiss him again. “You taste like bad coffee.”

“So do you!”

* * *

 

“Morgana went to Elena’s tonight because I told her to bugger off,” Arthur said in lieu of greeting when Merlin arrived at the flat a little past eight that Friday, smile nervous but excited. “She gave me some advice too dirty to repeat.”

“Hi to you too,” Merlin grinned at him, putting a hand on Arthur’s hip, his right hip, as he kissed him hello. Arthur was really getting used to this kissing thing, even though Merlin’s hand made him shiver a little, remembering what tonight would bring.

“I ordered Chinese,” Arthur said when Merlin pulled away, “and figured we could watch that baking show you like.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know what the Great British Baking Show is,” Merlin gave him a mock-dirty look. “It’s offensive to your culture, Arthur.”

Arthur could pretend everything was normal throughout the show, and the food, and even the kissing, even though that was very new.

He couldn’t quite pretend when Merlin followed him into the bedroom, leaning a little awkwardly against the door as Arthur sat on his bed, rocking backward, it creaking slightly underneath him.

“When was the last time you spent the night with someone?” Merlin asked softly, his eyes not quite on Arthur’s.

“Years ago,” Arthur said a little mournfully, wishing he had a better story to tell. “I was twenty-four. The night before I was deployed, I went to club and went home with the first man who paid any attention to me. I knew that I wouldn’t get to do it again for a long time. And since I got back…”

He didn’t ask Merlin the same question; he already knew the answer.

Merlin came to sit next to him on the bed. “Can I help you with anything?”

Arthur tried to speak, clearing his throat forcefully. He didn’t think he’d ever been so nervous. “Um. Warm water and a sponge. They’re in the bathroom. I need to clean it.”

Merlin nodded, pressing a kiss to Arthur’s jaw, before standing up again.

Arthur’s fingers shook as he undid his pants, slowing sliding them off his body.

His prosthetic was sleek, black, and looked like something his childhood self would’ve thought came from a science fiction movie. It worked exactly how it was designed to; despite Arthur’s paranoia, he knew it was difficult for strangers to tell that it wasn’t real unless he wore shorts. And he never wore shorts.

Merlin reentered the room as Arthur started to pull the prosthetic off, slowly and carefully. Merlin, as if in a trance, set the water down on the floor and came to kneel next to Arthur. He didn’t try to take the leg off; instead his hand just laid on top of Arthur’s as Arthur did the work involved.

“Okay,” Merlin said slowly as the prosthetic removed entirely. Arthur moved to lean it against the bed. “Now I’ll know how to do it.”

Arthur didn’t think anyone had ever sounded so tender when they spoke to him. Merlin took the sponge in one of his hands and looked questioningly up at Arthur through long lashes, clearly asking _can I?_

Arthur nodded numbly as Merlin ran the sponge across the place where his leg ended, just above where his knee used to be. Arthur missed his knee; sometimes it felt like it was still there, aching. But it felt alright now, with Merlin’s hand a warm touch against it.

“C’mere,” Arthur murmured after a minute or two. “Spending the night means cuddling, right?”

“Right,” Merlin agreed with a gentle smile, setting the sponge down, crawling up into Arthur’s bed as Arthur leaned backwards.

“Can you stay on my left side?” Arthur asked quietly. “I don’t want…”

“Yeah,” Merlin said quietly. “I’m gonna turn out the lights, though, just a minute.”

Merlin returned after the room was hazy with darkness, his arm sliding hesitantly across Arthur’s chest. “Do you sleep on your back?”

“Back or stomach,” Arthur said, his breath a little short. He felt Merlin nod and situate himself against Arthur’s side.

“Do you have nightmares?” Arthur heard himself ask, remembering that Merlin had been a soldier once, too, and was all too familiar with the kinds of things that haunted dreams.

“Sometimes,” Merlin whispered. “Mainly about my deployment. Sometimes about Will. I’m sorry if I ever wake you – I wake myself sometimes when I cry out.”

“I dream about having a leg again,” Arthur said. He’d never told anyone that before. “I don’t cry out, but I always realize it’s a dream in the end.”

“You’ll wake me up, then,” Merlin said a little thickly, “if you need me.”

 _I always need you_ , Arthur didn’t say but wanted to. Instead, he said “I wish we met when we were younger.”

He felt Merlin smile against his shoulder. “I don’t,” Merlin said, his voice growing heavy. “I wish we were more carefree, but – I think we met right when we were meant to. Don’t you?”

Arthur couldn’t help but agree.

* * *

 

Arthur woke up to a few rays of sunlight sneaking through his blinds. He hazily wondered what the weight on his side was.

He smiled, sinking back into the bed, when he realized it was Merlin, still asleep, still here. Merlin wasn’t a dream. Merlin would never be a dream.

He felt Merlin stir when he moved his shoulder, and Arthur nudged him a little. “Hey. Morning.”

Merlin’s eyes twitched as he buried his face in Arthur’s neck. It was incredibly endearing.

“G’back to sleep, Will,” Merlin murmured, and Arthur froze.

He didn’t know exactly what he was feeling, but his stomach seemed to be fighting a battle of whether to vomit or eat itself alive. Arthur’s arm inadvertently started to twitch and he forced himself upward, reaching out for his prosthetic leg, eyes blinded partially by wetness.

This was the problem, Arthur thought furiously, with only having one leg. He couldn’t leave, couldn’t run, couldn’t escape. He was trapped. This was also the problem with Merlin. That no matter how wonderful, sweet, understanding, amazing he was, Arthur would always come in second. Will was supposed to be Merlin’s husband; they were supposed to be blissfully married right now. Who was Arthur to think he could compare –

“Arthur?” He heard Merlin ask blearily, confused. “What –?”

The tears in Arthur’s eyes were making it very difficult to get his prosthetic on properly. The world around him seemed blurry and spun too quickly.

“ _Arthur_ ,” Merlin breathed, as if he followed the trail of his thoughts back to what he said when he was dreaming of what he wanted most. “I called you Will, didn’t I?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Arthur controlled his voice to make it sound like he wasn’t crying. “I should’ve – I know I should’ve known. You love him, Merlin. He’s your person, your one and only. You told me that, but I still – I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

Whatever Arthur was going to do next was put to a stop when Merlin threw his arms around Arthur’s shoulders, keeping him in place. He buried his head in Arthur’s shoulder, kissing where his shoulder met his back. His grip was tight, almost too tight, and it hurt in more ways than one.

“Let me go,” Arthur said, hand reaching  for his chest to try to pry Merlin’s hand away, but it wouldn’t budge.

“I don’t believe that anymore,” Merlin whispered, his voice shaky. “Or maybe I do, but now I think it’s you. Fuck, that sounds terrible when I say it out loud. It feels like I’m betraying him in some way. But – but I guess I believe that there are so many people in our lives that we meet for a reason, that we need, that we’re meant to love in some way. And that’s you, Arthur. You’re one of my people. My person. I can’t imagine my life without you.”

Merlin took a deep shuddering breath before saying “I will _always_ love Will. I’ll always miss him. But that doesn’t mean that…that I don’t love _you_.”

Arthur swallowed thickly and let his hands fall, lax, into his lap.

“Do you want to know why I said his name?” Merlin continued, and Arthur’s heart twisted, because he really didn’t. “I was dreaming about him. I dreamt I was home with him. But something was missing, and I couldn’t figure out what it was. It was you, Arthur. If Will walked through that door right now, I couldn’t just go back to my life with him like nothing changed. He’ll always be a part of me, but you – Arthur, I love you. Please say something.”

Arthur didn’t know if he could. He settled for reaching a hand back up to grip Merlin’s tightly, locking their fingers together.

They stayed like that for a moment, until Arthur trusted himself to speak again. “I love you, too. I’ve never – I’ve never loved anyone before. And no one’s ever loved me. I’m sorry I panicked, I – I just want you to love me as much as I love you.”

“Of course I do,” Merlin, impossibly, squeezed him even tighter. “Come back to bed, please. Let’s do this right.”

“I do have physical therapy in an hour,” Arthur said as he looked at the clock, laughing a little at the mundanity of it. “I should probably just get up now.”

“Can I go with you?” Merlin asked, still not letting go.

“Sure,” Arthur said, smiling, “it’ll be dead boring, though.”

“No, it won’t,” Merlin said firmly. “And I – I want to ask questions. About what I can do to help you. I – with Will, I missed everything. Everything important. I don’t want to miss anything with you, not if…not if I only have you for a little while. I won’t make the same mistakes. I promise I’ll be there. Okay?”

“You just want to ask the doctors the best way we can have sex,” Arthur said jokingly to stop himself from saying something truly sappy, or starting to tear up again. There had been enough of that today.

“That too,” Merlin laughed, and pecked Arthur’s cheek. He still didn’t let go, though. Arthur didn’t want him to. He wanted them to stay like that, locked into place, for as long as they could.


End file.
